White at the Tips
by Elizabeth Mills
Summary: An AU, in which Nation-tans are just people and Matthew helps others have the dreams they want to have. -ratings, characters, pairings and etc vary by chapter, but are generally rated teen. -contains NO Inception characters, only APH characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Word count:** 1,170  
**Chapter Rating:** PG  
**Chapter Warnings:** none, unless the mere mention of imperfect skin bothers you.  
**Summary:** An AU in which Nation-tans are just people and Matthew helps others have the dreams they want to have.  
**Author notes:** This will be at least a few chapters long. I'm thinking around nine or ten, but I'm still writing so lets see how it goes. And, for the record; I post more to my fic journal, so you'll always be a chapter or two behind here. The link to it is my homepage, so... if you want more you know where to go~

Enjoy!

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Matthew's arms were filled with clothes. A coat, shirt, pair of pants and, this time, a scarf. He looked up at Ivan, trying not to stare at the scars adorning his neck. Ivan's hand was on them, fingers running over the healed gashes covering the area.

"I, um, you should have told me you were gonna take it off, I'd have gotten rid of them for you." He said meekly, chancing a glance at his neck. He'd seen glimpses of them before, accidental flashes as he hooked him to the PASIV. Ivan merely shook his head.

"I'm not so sure you could." He replied, frowning lightly. Matthew wanted to tell him that, no, actually he _could_ because he'd done that sort of thing before for others; but there was something distinct in Ivan's eyes that kept him silent. The sort of look that made Natasha lash out at him back in reality.

So even though Natasha wasn't there (not in the dream at least, she was probably where she always was; holding her dear brother's hand as he slept) he didn't dare pry. He had a feeling she'd know, somehow. No one seemed to understand Ivan quite like she did, and if there was any indication he'd asked or said too much she'd be on him again as she had been the first time he asked what was wrong. He quickly learned not to ask that.

"The ocean looks lovely." Ivan said, turning away from him as though the awkward silence hadn't fallen between them.

"Um, thank you." Matthew said, not bothering to look at it. Ivan always said that, always seemed to marvel at how warm the sand felt under his feet, how crystal clear and beautiful the ocean was. By this point Matthew was sure he could make a postcard perfect beach better than he could anything else; and that was saying something. The only oddities were the things Ivan asked for.

Such as the glaciers lining the horizon. He had never thought someone would want giant bits of ice in a tropical paradise, but Ivan did. He also wanted sunflowers among the palm trees, and it didn't matter that there was no soil; they grew up, facing the sun that never set, all the same.

The water was still warm despite it all (this was also a specific request; Ivan had said he only wanted so many reminders of home), though Matthew didn't go in himself. He sat on the beach towel in his three piece suit, Ivan's clothes say next to him, and watched him swim laps in the sea. He'd suggested setting up the dream and letting Ivan enjoy it alone before (as he was already, as usual, feeling uncomfortably warm) but Ivan had insisted he come with him. He seemed to enjoy having him around, even if their conversations always seemed to taper off and die. Ivan didn't seem to mind this.

Matthew shrugged off his jacket, manipulating a palm tree to bend sideways, casting him in some shade. He'd long since stopped worrying about Ivan's subconscious attacking him; his dreams were always empty. It had concerned him at first, but asking him about it had been when he learned not to pry (Natasha had not taken kindly to his curious questions, and although the bruises he'd gotten when she knocked him into the counter had long since faded, the lesson he'd learnt from it was as vivid as ever).

"Matthew," suddenly Ivan was standing in front of him. "You should join me." He said, sounding a little hopeful as he pushed his wet bangs out of his face (the sand didn't stick to his legs though, and that was all Matthew's doing).

"Nah, I'm fine. I'm not a strong swimmer anyway… besides, you should enjoy this before the kick hits." He said, not particularly keen on gallivanting around in the ocean with a client. Usually he would just set people up and let them have the dream they wanted; but Ivan always requested he join him and Matthew had a hard time saying no. It felt like it took forever this way, but Ivan was happy, Matthew was paid and he was never actually there longer than any other appointment so he couldn't think of a real reason to refuse going in with him.

"You can't make yourself a swimmer?" He asked, a grin playing at his lips. Matthew squinted up at him, the sun shining brightly behind Ivan.

He grinned back. "If I were my brother you'd have had me." He said, not taking his bait. Of course he _could_, he just didn't want to. He wasn't much of a beach kind of guy anyway, even if the one he'd made for Ivan was near perfect (he couldn't call it perfect; the icebergs always ruined it for him, but Ivan wanted them).

Ivan eyed him, interested. "I should like to meet him one day—Alfred, you said he was?" Ivan asked, the ocean forgotten to him now as he admired the sunflowers around them. Sometimes he would just sit among them, not even looking at the sea.

"Yeah, that's his name. You have a good memory." Matthew replied, not realising he'd mentioned him so much.

"You have to, don't you?" Ivan asked, looking back to him with that same look on his face. It was almost as though he was expecting an answer to an entirely different question.

"What do you mean?" He asked, the word slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Natasha would surely be cross with him if she ever found out he was breaking her rule (_Don't ask questions you don't need to ask_).

Ivan frowned, looking back to the sunflowers. He snapped one off at the top, holding it in his hands (it was easily bigger than his palm). "Otherwise everything will be forgotten, da?" He replied, not looking back at him. Matthew hadn't expected an answer. Ivan never answered him, Natasha would always—

Ivan would never answer him in _reality_. Matthew felt as though he was starting to understand something.

"And then how would you make such a beautiful beach?" He asked, looking back over the ocean. Matthew followed his gaze, almost expecting something to have changed; some sort of life altering answer to be sitting out there atop the waves. But nothing was different. The water was shimmering and the glaciers looked a breathtakingly bright white under the sun. He should have known better than to think anything would be different; he'd made all this, every drop of water and every inch of iceberg. He supposed it was silly to think Ivan would tell him anything revealing, either. His whole family (as small as it was) seemed to be rather secretive; why would he be any different just because his little sister wasn't around?

Ivan was still watching the ocean, clutching the sunflower in his hand, when the world was filled with music and the kick ripped them out of the dream.

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Comments/reviews/whatever are always loved, so don't be shy~ :) Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Word count:** 1,369  
**Chapter Rating:** PG  
**Chapter Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** An AU in which Nation-tans are just people and Matthew helps others have the dreams they want to have. In this chapter we see what transpires after the kick.  
**Author notes:** This story has already gotten a few hits and a couple of watches, so I figured I'd throw up another chapter. I'm not crazy about this one, but hopefully it doesn't drive people away. After messing with it and getting a few critiques I can't spruce it up much more without driving myself mad, so yes. Also, Inception is now out on DVD and I am _loving_ it. Totally inspired to get typing some more on this, so I should have one or two more chapters done soon!  
Also, please note that since I use human names and all I had to make up a name for Ukraine; she's Katerina in this. If you don't like this name just mentally replace it with something else; it wont change anything~

Enjoy~

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Katerina smiled lightly to him, fingers still lingering on the PASIV until both Ivan and Matthew had opened their eyes.

Natasha was, predictably, at Ivan's side, her hands so close to his arm they were almost touching. Ivan blinked up at her; still letting his surroundings sink in. The subtle smile he gave her softened her; it was the only thing Matthew had ever been able to see that got her to smile every so faintly back at him. And it was times like these Matthew felt he was invading something personal and private, something he wasn't meant to see.

He shifted in his seat to turn away from them, but the light movement made it creak dully (sounding quite loud in the otherwise quiet room). Natasha's head jerked up, eyes cold and expression void of any of the softness he'd just seen.

Katerina cleared her throat, her smile broadening as Matthew looked over to her. "My wallet is in the kitchen… care to come with me?" She asked, sounding sweet as ever regardless of how pointed the question was. She still sat and waited for him to stand first though.

He tore out the IV, following her after she stood and went into the next room, passing Natasha as she took Ivan's IV out for him. He wasn't usually the type to leave the client with his PASIV, but he also didn't usually go into the dream with his client or let his client's older sister manage the PASIV while they were under. The Braginski house was a very special exception to his usual rules.

Her heels clicked sharply on the linoleum floor as she walked over to the table where her bag lay. Matthew leaned casually against the counter, eyes traveling over outdated wallpaper and curtains drawn shut over the window. Nothing he wasn't already used to, but he'd have felt rude just _watching_ her.

"She thinks you've done something." Katerina said, so quiet that at first Matthew thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But sure enough when he looked up at her she was lightly frowning. "I know better though." She continued, still keeping her voice low. "I know you have."

She had his payment in her hands, nervously playing with it, folding the bills and unfolding them, her hands at her chest. "You know I didn't make up any of her silly rules… but they're still rules." She said, chancing a glance at him. "So, I really wish you wouldn't. I don't want to know what you've done to him, just… don't do it again, alright?" Her hands stilled as she fixed him with a more serious look.

Before he could reply she strode forward, a gentle smile back on her face as usual as she handed him his pay. It only occurred to him then, as he took the money and she walked past him and back into the living room, that it hadn't been a question to begin with.

Matthew followed her back out of the kitchen, pocketing the money. Ivan was sitting in the chair, holding the IV in the hand his younger sister wasn't clung on to. Matthew didn't laugh, even though the look on Ivan's face was quite amusing (he could never be too casual around Natasha), as he went over to clear up the PASIV. He coiled back up the IV strings, all too aware of Natasha's gaze on the back of his head as he did so. He turned to Ivan as he snapped the suitcase shut, loading it into a larger, more worn brown one after, and smiled slightly.

"Same time next week, okay?" He asked, asking more out habit than anything. It was always the same time next week.

Ivan nodded, his expression easing a bit. "Ah, da, next week is good."

And with that Matthew took his cue to leave, seeing himself out.

He kept his suitcase between his feet, a hand on the handle as he sat on the ride home. He did so as casually as he could. He didn't want to attract unnecessary attention to himself, but he also refused to let his guard down. No one had ever _tried_ to steal it from him, but he wasn't sure he could trust anyone on the train and he knew Francis would murder him if he let something like that happen to it.

He watched the scenery pass him by out the window, trees a dull blur from the speed of the bus. He kept telling himself he needed to get a car, but he never seemed to find time to renew his license, let alone actually buy a car.

He couldn't help but wonder what had actually happened at the Braginski's. He'd left the dream thinking it was nothing, but Katerina had made him think otherwise. She'd said he'd done something, but he couldn't fathom what.

He'd asked Ivan a question, but nothing had come from it. Ivan hadn't been serious and just gave him a silly remark. Or, had he? Katerina had said she _knew_, but knew what? Maybe she'd been wrong?

But Natasha hadn't gotten angry, which he knew she normally wouldn't hesitate to if she thought he'd gone too far or overstepped any lines. So what had Katerina seen that Natasha hadn't? Natasha, apparently, suspected something, but that only made him wonder more. Had it been something he'd done that made Katerina so sure he'd done something he wasn't, by their rules, suppose to have?

Before he could make sense of it all the bus had arrived at his stop. He stood up, holding his suitcase firmly and trying to make it look natural despite it being as heavy as it was. He stepped onto the street, the bus doors closing behind him before slowly taking off again, and he was left to walk another block home.

He didn't have time to think things over as he walked, too busy being aware of his surroundings, and within a few minutes he was home. The barks of the neighbor's bulldog welcomed him, and if they were to move or simply get rid of the dog sometime soon it wouldn't be soon enough. Matthew was beginning to doubt the neighbors even still lived there, as the dog seemed to never sleep or tire of barking (in some of his crazier, more sleepless thoughts he was sure the dog had become immortal and had no need for sleep anymore, but he knew it couldn't be true no matter how much it seemed to be).

The house was near silent; music playing from another room. The first thing that caught Matthew's eye, however, was a note on the shelf top by the door (where he would set his car keys, if he owned any).

_Matthew; I have left to go to the store, Alfred is home but you know how good he is with relaying messages. If you need anything simply call~_

_Francis_

Matthew read the note, tossing it in the trash after. Another thing he'd had on his mind was something Ivan had said in the dream.

He kicked off his shoes on his way back past the front door, walking down the hallway to Alfred's door, knocking on it. He heard a chair move from behind the other side and some more shuffling as Alfred assured him he was about to open the door (although it was another few seconds before he actually did).

"Yeah, Matt?" He asked once he opened the door, grinning lightly as music still audibly played from the large headphones that hung around his neck. His desk light was on behind him; Matthew had surely interrupted him sketching out something (more than likely a new superhero of some sort) so he decided to make it quick.

"You know how you keep saying you want to see me out on the job—you know, doing some real dream work with a client? How about next week?" He asked. "One of my usuals said he'd like to meet you, so, if you wanna tag along…"

The excited look in Alfred's eyes and the way his smile broadened was all the answer he needed.

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Comments/critiques/reviews/whatever are always loved, so don't be shy~ :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Word count:**1,871  
**Chapter Rating:** PG-13  
**Chapter Warnings: **Minor violence.  
**Summary: **An AU in which Nation-tans are just people and Matthew helps others have the dreams they want to have. In this chapter Matthew doesn't make an appearance, and instead we meet a man and his daughter.  
**Author notes: **Hey, remember how I wasn't crazy about that last chapter? Yeah, here's another (even better) chapter to make up for it. And yeah, no Matthew in this one. I... want to do a few interesting things with this story, one of which being following two different narratives at the same time, so... I hope this doesn't get confusing for anyone! Like with the movie; just go with it and analyse it later. D

Also now I have no more chapters written up, so the next few updates surely wont be as soon as these last ones have been, sorry!

Oh, and like last time please note that since I use human names and all I had to make up a name for Seychelles; she's Michelle in this. If you don't like this name just mentally replace it with something else; it wont change anything~

Enjoy~

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Kiku strode down the cobblestone street, taking careful note of the dull _thud_ his shoes made against the ground. It really wasn't anything spectacular. He looked up, watching the people around him; everyone going about their lives and no one giving him a second glance.

He turned a corner, his steps now making more of a dull _clack_ instead, thought the ground hadn't changed. A small girl walking with her mother looked at him for a moment as if she'd felt something on her arm. Aside from that; nothing. As fun as it was to manipulate such small details, he was no closer to finding Arthur. He didn't mind it, though. He was rather enjoying walking around in his dream world on his own (well, as on his own as he _could_ be, really).

He peered into a shop as he passed it. No sign of him. He'd been looking for awhile now, though he couldn't be sure how long. He didn't trust his watch to follow the right flow of time, so he didn't bother to check it. If he'd tried he'd have found he wasn't even wearing one anymore.

Turning down another street his footsteps returned to normal, and the road became paved. Cars sped past him, and as Kiku got closer to the heart of London he felt silly for thinking he'd be somewhere so obvious.

It wasn't boding well for him that he hadn't learned him well enough yet, but he hadn't thought he'd need to. (He also wondered if, perhaps, Arthur knew him too well and was going the last place Kiku would think. But Kiku supposed that, if that were the case, he should've thought of it.)

It had to have been at least an hour (only a few minutes) and Kiku was sure, at this point, that Arthur wasn't staying still. England was large, but he'd noticed all of its small corners in the dream and knew them all too well in reality. Arthur wasn't playing fair, and he didn't have to either. There really wasn't a 'fair', though, technically.

So he looked around, a touch nervous now. Sure enough, a blond man looked up at him curiously the moment he hesitated. Kiku had aced everything else, proved to be more than capable and talented, but this… this was something else and he was still adjusting to it all. He walked away quickly, getting out of the blond man's sight before manipulating the road. He tried not to notice it, not act like the ground had just shifted, warping buildings. No one else seemed to notice. Kiku sighed.

A moved bridge and a split in half apartment complex later, and Kiku was sure he saw him; dark blond hair and with a brown jacket on after having just disappeared beyond a corner. Kiku sped up a bit, accidentally bumping shoulders with a young girl who threw him a glare as he moved the road to turn to him.

When he ran into him, quite literally, he realized it wasn't Arthur. He did get a good punch in the face from him; one that hit so suddenly it threw him to the ground, though.

"Shame. Close though." A voice from behind him said—and he only had time to glace up at the voice to see Arthur had walked over before he was shot in the head.

Back in reality, Michelle was painting – finger painting, to be exact. It was all she had to do, at the moment. She dipped her fingers into her cup of water, cleaning them for a new colour. The water was hardly clean enough for it and she hadn't been able to grab much paper, but she made do.

This wasn't how she had wanted to spend her weekend, though.

Elizabeta sat down next to her, sighing lightly. "Oh, that's nice." She said, picking up one of the pictures Michelle had laid to the side.

"Thanks." Michelle replied quietly after a moment. Elizabeta just frowned. She set the picture aside, leaning on the table and resting her chin on her hand as she did.

"I know it can get boring, but Arthur insists on testing out the new guy himself." She said, smiling weakly. "Besides, it should only take a few more minutes." She added.

Michelle looked at her skeptically, not believing a word of it. She knew, realistically, that the dream would only last a few minutes; but after her father had taken so long to set the PASIV up and explain everything to the new guy (whose name she still wasn't quite sure of) it already felt like it had been forever. Elizabeta went silent, bringing her hands to rest on top one another on the old fold out table they were sitting at.

Elizabeta really hated it when Arthur brought Michelle to work. It wasn't that she didn't like the girl—she did, but rather that she was never any good relating to her. She'd never babysat a girl so old; too old to offer to read stories to but yet too young to have a real conversation with. It was days like this she wanted to just walk out. But she never could. She owed him too much. So if she had to play babysitter now and then she would; she'd hold her tongue and try her damndest to do a good job, even though some days she still felt her true calling wasn't in anything the real world had to offer. She was getting better at it, though.

Elizabeta was about to ask her if she could get her anything, a snack or something or _anything_ to be doing _something_ when the new guy jolted awake. They both froze, watching him. Arthur woke up a second later.

The new guy stared at Michelle for a moment, but before Michelle could figure out why her father spoke up.

"Well, it was more like _I'd_ found _you_, but you brought me there. You still need work." He replied, taking out the IV and winding it up. The new guy seemed to only just remember he even had an IV in him and hastily took it out, mumbling something. Probably an apology; Michelle had noticed he said sorry and nodded his head a lot (except it wasn't so much a nod as it was a bow he never ended up finishing).

"Still, I'd say you're in." Arthur added, taking the IV back and gently winding it back up.

"He—you punched me." He replied, looking at him with a mild look of shock on his face.

"Terribly sorry about that, but it tends to happen when you muck around too much. You should know this." He said, not looking very sorry for it. "I figured I should get you out of there before the others joined in, though." He told him, closing the briefcase the PASIV sat in shut with a sharp _click click_ of its latches.

He nodded, accepting Arthur's answer. He said something, but Michelle was distracted in her thoughts now. He'd punched the new guy—or at least, someone had, but it was all the same, right? She wasn't too sure, but she was slowly learning about it. Her father didn't want to say much; he insisted she was too young to try it yet, but it was impossible not to learn when the house was littered with sketches and drawings of his most recently thought up dream levels. She looked down at her finger paintings; they could hardly compare.

The next thing she knew Arthur was seeing the new guy out the door and he was gone.

"Are you sure he's good enough?" Elizabeta asked the moment she was sure he couldn't still hear them. "You said yourself he needs work. We're not here to train him."

"Definitely. He may need work, but he's sharp as a tack out of the dream. Once he gets his footing in there we'll have something golden." Arthur smiled like he was almost a little excited and Elizabeta didn't say anything, even though her lips thinned and she eyed him as if she was questioning his sanity. She probably was, and he noticed.

"Well, it's not like we can just let him go now that he knows so much." He replied, a touch defensively. Elizabeta laughed incredulously.

"Oh, and whose fault is that?" She asked, and Arthur didn't say anything for a moment.

"It's been awhile since we've had a point man. You're damn good at getting the information you can, but it's too long a process for you to juggle on top of everything else. We need him." He replied, chancing a glance at her. She still looked unhappy, but it was obvious she agreed. She looked like she wanted to say something, and Michelle watched her, waiting; but Arthur spoke instead.

"Besides, I have a good feeling about him." He said, hopefully. It was all Elizabeta could do to just sigh at him.

"Fine, you win; but when he botches up a mission don't say I didn't see it coming." She said, still looking nervous.

"Don't worry, until he's ready he can mind the PASIV, he doesn't have to come in any missions." He replied, looking pleased with himself. Elizabeta stared at him, trying to think of another point before conceding and smiling.

"Fine, he's in. But I want to test him out myself some time." She said, grinning lightly as she stood up; chair scraping against the floor and making Michelle cringe as it did.

"Of course." Arthur replied, as if the idea of doing anything else was absurd.

He then took notice of the papers spread out around Michelle, and the smile on his face was different—softer, that the one that had been on his face a moment ago, as if he'd never seen such impressive works of art. It was one reserved just for Michelle, and she loved it.

"And look at all these… I was under a bit longer than I thought, it seems." He said, grinning to himself a bit as he looked over her paintings. Buildings, fields, towns, rooms; all sorts of things she'd seen him create with such subtle beauty and attention to detail that she could only hope to somehow acquire one day. They never looked as good, but they still hung up on the fridge when Arthur's drawings only ended up in folders, scattered across his desk or, though rarely, laid out about the ground for his larger works when a desk just wasn't enough space for it all. She smiled back up at him, gathering them up and putting them in her notebook to take them home in.

She'd ask him if she's old enough yet to use the PASIV later. At the moment he was saying goodbye to Elizabeta, Michelle was liking her paintings for the first time all day, and she really didn't want to ruin this moment; didn't want it to end.

But it's late, and by the time she gets home she's too tired to ask him about the PASIV. The next morning her paintings are up on the fridge, though, and she decides the PASIV can wait another day.

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Comments/critiques/reviews/whatever are always loved, so don't be shy~ :) Thanks for reading!


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